This and That

A week or so ago we had a bit of this.

 

I dressed up like a baglady, it was so cold. I am wearing 4 jumpers in this pic, no kidding.

I realised I had to put in place a winter warmth strategy. Comforting soups and casseroles? Hot water bottles? Wooly hats? Thermal underwear? Thick socks?

NO! Instead I bought this. Obvious, really. Nothing better than a silk scarf to keep out the cold.

 

It's Hermes Groenland, who could resist a scarf with husky pups and polar bear pups on it?

 

 

Study this pic carefully.  Do you see the tiny rip in the sofa cover? I know, it's hard to spot.

Someone who shall remain nameless, MONTY DOG, did that.

 

With all the cold I am dreaming of summer and this.

From here

 

And I have been trying out this, very woody and exotic, love it.

Tom Ford, Bois Marocain

 

I am going to be Talitha Getty in Marrakesh, but without the youth, good looks, money and the sad ending. Or indeed Marrakesh.  I expect we will go to Bournemouth.

The best exotic North African perfume I have tried is this. Divine.  What about you?  Tell me your perfume secrets!

Andy Tauer, L'Air du Desert Marocain

Last night we finished watching Series 5 of this.

What a ride! And I now know the French for a "grass" which I am sure will come in useful. 

Look!

That is what my sweet husband gave me for Valentine's Day.

This is what I gave him. That man is a saint to put up with me.

In my defence it does look just like Monty Dog.
 

And that, as they say, is that. Or this?

Blighty's Winter of Discontent and Shovelgate

Dahlings, how are we all? No, calm down, that one ready made lasagne you had back in 2010 probably wasn't 100% horse...and almost certainly wasn't Shergar, he can't still be doing the rounds, he wasn't that fat...now back away from the Linda McCartney cookbook right now..*

I am (sobs) suffering a Winter of Discontent.  By which I mean I am bl**dy grumpy:  It has snowed again, Mr B is work stresssed, Boy 2 has lost his school trousers, his fountain pen and his rugby socks, Boy 1 has lost his rugby top and a mobile phone and left his entire games kit in the back of the car, Boy 2 has developed something nasty on his nose (impetigo?), Boy 1 smells of sausages and refuses to have his hair cut even though he is starting to look feral, and I can't even begin to understand how to do Boy 2's Maths homework, also I am being stalked by a man from Subaru as Mr B once looked at their website...meanwhile Boy 1 tells me I don't work hard like Mr B, I just stay at home and look at my iPad.  Cutting.  And untrue.  I've been spending a lot of time putting cream on Boy 2's nose and avoiding phone calls and emails from Jim at Subaru, for example. It's hard work I can tell you.  No matter, I am not taking Boy 1's accusation seriously as it was prompted by me "encouraging" him to put some plates in the dishwasher.  After taking him through 21st century socio-economic factors and the shared earning power of men and women,  I ended up shouting that if he did not load the dishwasher when he was grown up HIS WIFE WOULD LEAVE HIM.

I think it was Richard III that went on about this Winter of Discontent in the old Shakespeare play?  That just makes me even more grumpy about my recent parking ticket incident:  the other day they dug up old Dicky in a car park in Leicester.  And did he get a parking ticket? Even though he'd been there since 1485 and the Battle of Bosworth, which MUST mean he exceeded his parking ticket time? No.  See, it's one rule for the Royals and another rule for plebs like me....

And today we had Shovelgate:   the drive was covered in snow this morning so I decided to clear it before driving on it.  Where are the snow shovels? (Boy 2 bless him was keen to "help" which involved standing in the way and building a snowman). No sign. Not in the garage.  Not at the side of the house.  I check and double check and do a lot of muttering.  There may have been some bad words involved.  I become convinced that our shovels have been stolen, dark conspiracy theories swirl around.  Eventually I ring up Mr B.   Who has craftily  made an early exit to work this morning on foot.  "Oh " says he, " I put them in the shed, they were getting in the way..."

I tramp through deep snow in the back garden to retrieve shovels from shed.

Dahlings, I cleared that drive in record time, such was the head of steam I had built up...snow and gravel were flung aside without mercy...

It is only now I realise the utter brilliance of Mr B's ruse....
hide shovels
enrage wife
drive cleared....



Feeling a bit better now.

 

 

 

 

And don't worry, Mr B won't escape unscathed: why do we have a broken printer popped on top of here??? Is it to become an interior design accent Mr B or are you expecting  a flood and feel it important to preserve defunct electricals?  Please explain....otherwise you will get the socio-economic dishwasher talk too...and you won't like the ending at all....

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

* I ate horse in France as a kid. They told me it was steak.  Sorry Dobbin.

In Which I am Almost Elizabeth Hurley

Dahlings, me and Miss Elizabeth Hurley have long led parallel lives....we are practically indistinguishable...(climbs back onto chair after mad fit of laughing at own joke as usual...)

As I may have mentioned in passing  a propos of nothing at all to a few people Everybody I Know (plus a terrified stranger in the frozen foods section of Tesco), Boy 1 went to the same posho pre-prep school in London attended by Miss Hurley's son....in fact, I did say hello to her once: she was waiting to put money in the parking meter and I was trying to get Boy 2 to relinquish his death grip on said parking meter after I made the mistake of letting him feed in the coins...as I wrestled with the octopus like Boy 2 who clung on like a demented limpet while turning puce, I feel me and Miss Hurley really bonded... (note to self: need to calm down on the marine imagery/Jacques Cousteau dvds).


Here's Boy 1 back in the day:

And here is further visual evidence that we were batting way out of our league by signing up for that school: *

From CBBC News website

From Famecrawler website - yes really

Later my life and that of Miss Hurley again interconnected: the very week news of Miss Hurley's relationship to Shane Warne became public, highly compromising photos of me surfaced on the internet** and I was forced to deny rumours of an involvement with cricketer Wayne Shorn.

 And now we have another convergence.  You may recall Miss Hurley's elaborate wedding complete with Indian costume and dancing.

From Hello magazine

Well, only the other night I attended Greggs Grammar's very own Bollywood evening.

Here's my outfit.

Mr Blighty came too and I knew we were in for a good night when he mentioned he was going to leave his vest off as he might get too hot.  Phwoarrrr Mr Blighty, you animal you!

Mr Blighty followed the dance demonstration by Mr Jay Kumar very carefully - he particularly liked the move known as "change the light bulb" (though he did express concerns about whether Mr Kumar was properly certified as an electrician).  Tremendous fun! Here's a clip Mr Kumar in action.

Better go now dahlings, I'm expecting a call from Estee Lauder's people...

T, thanks for the bindi, sets off my eyes a treat

 *But worth every penny in terms of the anecdotes I have wrung out of it...

** ok, I admit I put the photos on the internet myself and on my own blog, but it's not easy being a D list sleb you know..



Keeping The Dream Alive

Dahlings, did I mention I have just been to Paris?  Oh well, Paris now seems like a distant memory but I am trying to keep the romance alive...

Brain-washed by over-consumption of beauty blogs, I brought back some French pharmacy items (Me and Gwyneth, soulmates).

Avene skin cream, La Roche Posay sun lotions and the Bioderma make up remover that everyone raves about, except Mr B who had to lug the suitcase with it in

However, it is hard to keep the romance alive when you discover from the English section of the product literature  that the Avene Cilcalfate, lotion assechante, reparatrice (how lovely does that sound?) is meant for "Oozing skin irritations" - how typically Anglo-Saxon! So now apparently I have weeping sores. Nice.

Nuxe lip stuff, sets off my weeping sores a treat

I have also started reading this book.

 I got very excited when it mentioned the flagship store of  L'Artisan Parfumeur across the street from the Louvre - I clocked this the other day when in Paris - dahlings, did I mention I have just been to Paris? -  and Mr B had to keep a close eye on me otherwise I would have bunked off the cultural programme and hotfooted in there.

I put the book aside for a moment to gloat over my own Artisan P perfume - Rose des Indes...
But the smug glow of ownership did not last long - at that moment I noticed (after 2 years of liberal application to my person) that in fact it is "Parfum d'Ambiance" - Room Spray.

People like me really shouldn't be allowed out on their own.

Other members of the Blighty family have also been doing their utmost to keep the whole Paris experience alive: imagine my joy when I discover that while in Paris (did I mention I have just been to Paris?)Boy 2 has been wearing the same pair of socks for at least a day, a night (in bed)  and another day...... mmmmm, Eau de Trainers Chauds  And possibly "oozing".  Where's my room spray?


P.S. Grandma Whacker emailed to point out I had got my French wrong in my last post - it should be "puis-je" not "peux-je".  I tried blaming this on Boy 2 but he wearily explained that he said " Est-ce que je peux aller aux toilettes Madame s'sil vous plait?" - it's chanted as a singsong rhyme at breakneck speed by the boys as they leg it to the loos mid-lesson - their get out of jail card, so the only bit of French they take note of!!!! So thank you Grandma, now you have Mrs Merkel on Line 2, something about the Euro...needs your advice...

Cultured

Hello dahlings! Are you well?

Here at Blighty HQ we've all been busy with our various cultural activities..

The nice people at Club Penguin sent Boy 2 a copy of their brand new Club Penguin magazine.  I think they hoped he might do a review (they were perhaps labouring under the misconception that he was an influential literary figure, like Oscar Wilde but more butch and less likely to come out with witty little quips...)  Sadly Boy 2 sees reading as an unnecessary activity; it is rumoured that he once read the on-screen instructions for a  shoot 'em up computer game but he has threatened to punch anyone who dares repeat this.

So getting any sort of reaction out of Boy 2 was a challenge. 

"Did you like that magazine?"
 "Ugh?" 
"What did you like about it?" 
" Stuff." 
"What stuff?" 
"Stuff."

Eventually Boy 2 admitted that it was a really cool mag as not only did it have stuff in it but it came with a week's free membership of Club Penguin, the on-line penguin world he so loves. AND there was a code for a limited edition T-shirt for his on-line penguin persona to wear, and he was the first penguin to wear one and all the other penguins though he was cool and wanted to be his friend.  So there you have: Club Penguin magazine - makes you fashion forward and the envy of other penguins.


I have read this book.

To summarise, this chap is a vegan for 25 ish years and eats lots (5-6 times a day) of soy based meat substitutes and suffers terrible IBS and piles etc.  Eventually he gets fed up, ditches the soya, buys some meat and eats it - on the first day he has ox liver for lunch and then steak for supper.  His IBS  disappears and he feels marvellous.  It makes a good story. He has some interesting stuff to say about the food industry and how the government's "healthy eating" campaigns have coincided with an increase in obesity.  But really, I do think he might have twigged a bit earlier on, that the soya was the problem and that excessive consumption of one foodstuff is a bad idea - and now it looks as if he's heading the same way with the meat!  I would be really interested in what Janet of The Gardener's Cottage thinks about this book, as Janet is a committed vegan who appears the picture of health and  is also a trained chef and does not just reach for the Linda McCartney readymade soya sausages.

 

The other night Mr B and I watched this.

 

It was nice to see Mr Banderas speaking Spanish and not voicing a large ginger cat wearing thigh high boots.  This film was nicely creepy, hokey and as weird as you would expect from old Almodovar. If you have seen this, you will understand why Mr Blighty found it a bit unsettling.

 

Remember my minimalist phase?  Well some members of Blighty Inc have gone seriously off message.  This here mess is a game Boys 1 and 2 call "Teddy Resort Party"

It may just look like a random scattering of toys but in fact it's a very exclusive, all-inclusive, luxury beach resort for stuffed animals run by Boys 1 and 2.  A bit like Hugh Hefner's Playboy Mansion except the bunnies are stuffed   real don't have large nope, can't make this work!

This is the casino - note the chips.

The casino is run by tiger - here he is at his control desk, watching out for cheats and card counters...

I have been listening to this chap - Gotye - no idea how it's pronounced - Goaty??  I think he is Australian  - do you ladies know him already?

 

I was amused by this video for one of Gotye's songs.  I suggested to Mr Blighty that he circulate it round the office to build morale - I found the scenes at the typewriter very evocative of the parliamentary draughtsman's role.....

 

 

Mr B did not think his boss would appreciate this - some people are just not as cultured as others..

Sophie's Choice and McBride's A Gory Ride

Dahlings, first, housekeeping: I seem to be in an emotionally abusive relationship with Blogger, it raises my hopes by offering me the chance to respond to your comments individually and sometimes even lets me; at other times it cruelly withholds and doesn't let me.  Very upsetting.  I just wanted to let you know, I really appreciate all your comments and am very flattered that you take the time and trouble.

Now, books. I wanted to tell you about an author whose books I have been greedily gollopping* down: Sophie Hannah. Ms Hannah writes psychological thrillers which I find compelling. They are based in and around a fictional town Spilling near Cambridge (UK) and each feature Spilling CID, in particular the rather odd detective Simon Waterhouse, his grumpy boss Proust, and a feisty woman detective Charlie Zailer.  Have you read these?  If not and if you like twisty, slightly nasty thrillers with some police procedural, then you are in for a treat.  They are the kind of books I am sad to finish, it is so enjoyable having one on the go.

Mr Blighty has also taken to the works of Sophie H and being Mr B, has read them all in the right order, whereas I have read them haphazardly depending on what I find in the local library.  Normally I would not mind, but as Mr B has gone all sequential, I feel slightly hard done by.. What about you guys?  Do you read series of books in the correct order? Is this exclusively a male trait? Or a Mr B trait?

Once I had finished the works of Sophie Hannah,  I felt quite bereft so picked up Stuart MacBride's "Birthdays for the Dead". I have read his detective series set in Aberdeen and like the grittiness and sense of humour. "Birthdays" is not for the over-sensitive, the crimes described are horrid but if you can keep that at arm's length, the plot is great and the pace cracking, and there is the same black humour. The main character reminded me of the lead in Tony Black's novels which I talked about here: both characters do a lot of punching other people, but all in a good cause...

When I mentioned to the lady librarians recently my love for the gruesome works of Ms Hannah, Mr MacBride, SJ Bolton and others, they countered that they liked nice, happy books; they then conceded that some really nice people did like horrible books;  they eyed me speculatively as if assessing whether I fell into that category, but apparently the jury is still out on that one**...

I am quite puzzled to be honest about my ability to enjoy really quite unpleasant books, as I am a total wuss when it comes to scary films (did not sleep a wink after seeing Psycho and refused to shower for weeks; would never trust anyone called Freddie Kruger ...). I also can't bear to read horrid news reports. Maybe I can cope with the books as they are not as vivid and immediate as films, also, because I know they are fiction and the authors leaven the fare with humour and by keeping certain characters (murder victims) as cyphers rather than fleshing out their characters ...

Well enough of my homemade literary analysis.  Have just heard a brand new Sophie Hannah is waiting for me at the library...(hotfoots it to library)

What books are you chaps enjoying at the moment? Please tell, love getting book tips!

*probs not a real word but I live dangerously
**note to self: pay fines on time, grovel more and contribute generously to the librarians' Christmas party fund

My Love For Mr B

Valentine's Flowers from Mr B

This post was meant for Valentine's Day but every time I went to the computer yesterday there was a small boy attached to it, must contact the Computer Help Desk about this..*

Dahlings, I think we have known each other long enough for me to open up to you  about my innermost feelings and emotions. Normally I am very private person ....(falls off chair laughing).

I would like to share with you my love for Mr B.

For yes, I love him, he is adorable.
And let me count the reasons why:

I love his blue blue eyes
I love his Northern roots and the way he says "sing-ging"
I love his sense of humour
I love that he is losing his hair just a little bit
I love his terrible dancing
I love his voice
I love his skill with words and composition
I love that he has won a number of Ivor Novello awards for his song writing
I love that he is a multi-millionaire performer, recording artist and record producer....


WHAT?   WHAT AM I GOING ON ABOUT?

Oh, you thought I was talking about Mr Blighty?  Noooooo.

I am rambling about Mr Gary Barlow, lead singer of Take That, former X factor judge and national treasure in the making..


I missed the whole Take That phenomenon first time round but now I am in just the demographic for Gary and the boys Take That Two.  There are loads of  middle aged ladies very partial to Gary and the boys, many of them will have been fans first time round  - there is a tremendous amount of goodwill for the band.   I had a lovely chat with one of the older lady librarians the other day and she had been to see Take That in concert last summer.

My nearest and dearest find my crush on Gary hilarious but really Mr B (my Mr B) only has himself to blame as he gave me this for Christmas, which I found fascinating.




And then I read this. Also very interesting.  And funny. 

And Mr B got me these too.

Mr B (my Mr B) also tried to get me tickets for a charity concert Gary did in the Albert Hall just before Christmas but it was all sold out (drat those librarians....)

Boys 1 and 2 find Gary and his sing-ging totally uncool so I have the added benefit of being able to threaten to play Gary in the car if they misbehave  - "Nooooo, Mummy, please not Gary....nooooo!"
Also the risk of humiliation if their school mates hear Gary blaring out of the car at drop off  "Want you back, want chu back, want chu back for good .."

I leave you with Mr B (the other Mr B) doing some dance moves at the Albert Hall concert..he is not afraid to make fun of himself and his boy band days..

*Computer Help Desk have just got in touch - they recommend a Taser.

Mrs Blighty, Rock Chick

The other night I went with Mr B to see his old favourite group Echo and the Bunnymen play.

When I mentioned this recently to anyone, they looked a bit blank and then said, " Oh, yes, Echo Beach."

Nooooooo! That was quite different, that was Martha and the Muffins.

The Bunnymen are a rocky, moody, sort of post punk band with a charismatic Liverpudlian lead singer called Ian McCulloch.

Their best known song is "Killing Moon", featured on the soundtrack of  the film " Donnie Darko".


Must admit, prior to the event I was not terribly enthusiastic as I knew Mr B used to go to gigs wearing a greatcoat and pointy shoes and with his hair all spiked up, and it all sounded a bit goth and gloomy to me.

In fact, it was brilliant!

It was a thrill to skip off up to London on a school night and meet up with Mr B.  And the concert was at the London Palladium, a theatre I last visited for my 8th birthday to see Cliff Richard (bless  Grandma W, she organised that for me, what a nice mummy).  So it was great to see the inside of the Palladium again and bang on to Mr B about seeing Cliff and Olivia Newton-John, while Mr B carried on a parallel monologue about last seeing the Bunnymen at the Glasgow Barrowlands in 1984..not quite sure whose anecdote had the most street cred, mmm, tricky one..

The Bunnymen were good, really good -  a very tight band - and Mr McCulloch can really sing.  And what confidence, arrogance, to sing in front of all those people !   He was a real character - he took a lot of liquid refreshment between, even during, songs, we were a long way from the stage but the bets were on Guinness, with whisky chasers... a soothing vitamin drink and mineral water.


Here's them doing The Killing Moon  back in the 80s. They did it brilliantly last night too, they just look a lot less boyish!

And now dahlings, I am off  for a cheeky nap on the sofa - it's very tiring being a rock chick at my age.

Sussex-Full Weekend*

A couple of weeks ago we spent a lovely weekend with our lovely friends  in their lovely house in lovely rural Sussex (can I write for Hello magazine now please?)

Their house which dates from medieval and Tudor times is full of  interesting and eye-catching details.


Like this chimney and half-timbering.

And there are lots of beams inside.

This is the sitting room.  Our friends lived in Shanghai for a while, hence the striking Chinese art.

I love the colours of this vase.



And these tiles around the fireplace in the guest bedroom are charming.

The basins are from China too. 

This is an old bread oven.

The fireplace in the sitting room gives away our friends' past in the Royal Navy.  I used the sword to force Mr B up the aisle at our wedding Mr B and I used the sword to cut the cake at our wedding.

 

This made me laugh - on the wall in the loo.

K and S, thank you for a great weekend and thank you for letting me show bits of your home on the old blog.

*Not, Sex Full, no, that would be rude, Successful, geddit? Yes I know these puns are just ghastly but it's my blog and I'll pun if I want to.